


Blue Da Ba Dee Da Ba Daa

by KyloTrashForever



Series: Oneshots [11]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Awkward Boners, Blow Jobs, F/M, Horny Ben, Nervous Ben, New Relationship, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Popsicles, Twitter Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 19:18:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18058475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: Yo listen up, here's the story.About a little guy that lives in a blue world.And all day and all night and everything he sees is just blue.Like him, inside and outside.Or:Ben pops a boner because of a blue popsicle and gives Rey something better to do with her mouth.





	Blue Da Ba Dee Da Ba Daa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard/gifts).



> A Twitter prompt by [Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard/pseuds/Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard), who I adore almost as much as her weird prompts.

_Does she really have to keep doing that?_

Ben grits his teeth as he watches Rey from across the room, her legs tucked under her casually as she lazes on his couch. They’ve only been dating two months, and this is only the fourth time she’s stayed the night. He’s glad that she’s here, in his space, amongst his things— can’t really think of any place he’d rather her be, really— it’s just that, well—

Okay. The actual root of the problem is that he hadn’t been quite prepared for just how fucking _hot_ he would find just about every casual thing Rey does in her downtime.

Last week it had been the way she fixes her hair before bed. She has this habit of combing her fingers through her hair while it’s still wet, her neck elongating and turned to the side as if she’s _inviting_ him. Before that he’d watched her digging through the cabinets for a snack, pressed up on her toes with her pert little ass straining against the tight fabric of her shorts.

He’s wanted to fuck her every moment of every day that she’s spent lounging around in his home, and restraining his urges to appear less of a complete animal has been trying at best.

Today however, he’s being tormented by the sight of his girlfriend, casually strewn on the couch, a blue popsicle pressed to her lips as she dips it past to suck along the length of it. Over and over and _over_ again.

It’s either a dream or a fucking nightmare.

She’s just run her tongue up the underside, nibbling at the end before pushing it deeper. Her cheeks hollow as she slowly pulls it back out, and he can hear the little _pop_ it makes as it falls from her mouth.

He’s trying to pretend he’s _very_ interested in the game that’s playing on the television, but he can see her from the corner of his eye, her head down as she continues read whatever book that lays in her lap. His grip on the remote is so tight that he’s almost certain it will be left unusable after much more of his abuse.

He shifts on his end of the couch, trying to hide the obvious evidence of the way this innocent act is affecting him and he briefly wonders if maybe he’s just a pervert. Oh, _God_. Is he destined to spend the rest of his life rubbing one out four times a day because Rey did something trivial like wash the dishes just a little too aggressively?

He shifts again, his dick pressing against his sweatpants as it begs for attention, and he would shout at it if he could. Honestly, he feels his dick is more to blame for his deviant behavior than he is. He barely has any say in the matter at this point.

Rey has noticed by now that he’s squirming like the shifty motherfucker that he is— her eyebrow raised in question as she holds what is now a much thinner frozen treat between her fingers. Good _God—_ she’s sucked it down to a third of the original size.

“Are you okay?”

No. No he isn’t. Her lips are slightly stained a blue-ish tint and he’s thinking about what they’d look like stretched around his cock. Are they just as blue inside?

“I’m fine.”

“You look uncomfortable.”

He fucking _is_ uncomfortable— but that’s besides the point. “Nope. Just fine.”

She frowns as she _again_ dives in to the blue bane of his existence— this time pushing it past her lips to the base to suck the last bit right off the stick.

He wants to write a letter to the goddamned Popsicle company and let them know just how much they’re ruining his life. She’s not supposed to know how fucking gross he is until they’re married with two kids and it’s contractual that she accept him and his raging boner that doesn’t listen to a fucking word he says.

He thinks he whimpers a little, because Rey is looking at him again with concern and then she is setting the naked stick on the end table before scuttling over from her end of the couch. She’s leaning into him, the back of her hand against his forehead.

“You’re sweating. Are you getting sick?”

He shakes his head with far more force than necessary, attempting to discreetly cross his legs.

Mistake.

She notices.

Her eyes widen a little when she sees the distinct bulge that is raging just below his sweats, looking back up at him in confusion.

“Oh.”

He grimaces, attempting to turn away from her. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I just— well you—”

She leans in to press her lips to his, effectively shutting up his babbling and his eyes instinctively flutter closed as her fingers reach to curl in his hair. She breaks away, her lips hovering over his and her voice low.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I don’t know, I just— I feel like a pervert. I can’t even be around you without wanting to… well.” He glances down at the billboard that is his cock, broadcasting exactly what he wants to do.

Her lips curl upwards in a grin, and she reaches to let a finger trail over the front of his sweats, his cock jumping like a Pomeranian that’s been home alone too long. It’s practically barking at this point.

“I think that’s a good thing, Ben.”

“It is?”

She nods, her lips brushing against his once more. “Mhm. I could take care of that for you.”

He swallows heavily, and he’s pretty sure if his cock could nod eagerly it would at this point. “Take care of it?”

She’s already on her knees before he can even finish the question, her fingers curling around the hem of his sweats and tugging to drag them over his thighs with his underwear in tow. His cock springs forward like it’s happy to see her, and he supposes that’s not far off.

Her slim fingers wrap around the base of him, and he hisses out a breath as she gives a light squeeze. “Ben,” she hums, her fist making a slow stroke upwards, “all you have to do is ask.”

“Please,” he croaks out, his voice ending in a slight whine as her thumb presses into the wet slit at his head. “ _Please.”_

She grins as she leans in, angling her head as she laps up the length of him— and for whatever fucked up reason— her bright blue tongue dragging up his shaft has him harder than he’s ever been in his life. She lets it crest over the head, and he watches as the dewy beads of pre-cum collect over the blue surface as she lets it retreat back into her mouth.

She looks up at him as her lips enclose over the head, her teeth scraping lightly as if she’s nibbling him in the same way she had that fucking popsicle. He grits his teeth so hard they might actually chip, and she lets his cock sink further into her mouth, pushing down to the base to meet her fingers still gripping there. When she withdraws, the blue tint inside her mouth is made all too apparent in the way her lips stretch around him.

He already knows he’s never going to be able to look at the fucking color ever again without getting hard.

She’s moving faster now, bobbing her head down his cock and back again at a pace that has his balls drawing up tight and his blood roaring in his ears. He can’t help the way his fingers wind into her hair— apparently they don’t listen to him either. Maybe they’ve joined the mutiny his dick seems set on staging.

If he were of right mind he’d be embarrassed by the way he grips the back of her head— his hold too tight, too _rough_. He’s practically fucking her face at this point but he’s too far gone to rethink his actions. She does nothing to stop him, just lets her jaw go slack, saliva pooling at the corners to dribble over and he’s pretty sure _that’s_ blue too.

Fucking _blue._

 _“Fuck._ I’m gonna come. I want to come in your mouth. I want you to swallow every drop down like you did that goddamned popsicle. Want you to suck me better than you did it. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”_

He comes so hard he’s pretty sure he’ll still be feeling it _tomorrow—_ spilling out of him in a rush as it pours down her throat. He continues to pull her along his cock a little more slowly, milking him of every last drop as she swallows down everything he gives her. By the time he stills, and she lets his spent cock fall from her mouth, the reality of how rough he’d just been hits him with full force.

“Fuck. _Fuck,”_ he huffs out, leaning forward to cup her jaw as mortification sweeps through him. He’s _never_ been this rough with her. She must be disgusted. She’s probably never going to come back here again. “I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

She surprises him by rising from where’s she’s been kneeling between his legs, pushing up on his thighs to leave a heavy kiss at his lips. Her tongue slips inside briefly, and he can taste blue raspberry tinged with his own cum and fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever experienced.

“Stop apologizing,” she murmurs, still nibbling at his lower lip.

“You’re not mad?”

She laughs softly. “I’m not going to break, Ben. You can be a little rough.”

He lets out a groan. “You’re perfect.”

She shrugs as she gives another chuckle, pressing her lips to his gently. “Oh, and Ben?”

“Hm?”

“Next time, if you have a problem with something in my mouth…” She shifts to let her lips brush against his cheek instead.

His heart hammers a little as she trails off, getting distracted by the way her mouth moves over his jaw now. “Yeah?”

One last kiss just below his ear, right where his pulse is currently pounding away beneath his skin. “Give me something better.”

He doesn’t know if he deserves her, but fuck if she isn’t ever leaving his house ever again. Once he concocts a valid argument as to why she should just stay here forever, that is.

He supposes if nothing else— he can always just buy more popsicles.


End file.
